Glimpses
by ShilohWhittier
Summary: They'd always had each other. And that was one thing that never could change. It was carved into the story of time in stone, not ink. Series of one-shots following Ron and Hermione's relationship after the Battle of Hogwarts and into their future together. Lots of fluff. Rated M for possible later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 - Comfort

She had always been strong. Always. That was her job, to be the emotional balance of the trio, and not once in the past year had she let herself get visibly upset. Nothing more than a few tears, at least.

She hadn't ever been one of the girls who were overly emotional. It was quite a trend, she noticed, unfortunately, with most female witches. But not her, not Hermione Granger, she kept herself together, and she constantly provided support and logic in the face of any sort of trauma.

Today, though, she felt that foundation begin to crumble. It had all been too much. There were bodies strewn across The Great Hall. Fred Weasley was dead. Tonks….Lupin.

It was dawn. Harry had disappeared a while ago, with Ginny, maybe, somewhere off to sleep or talk or maybe just sit, quietly. Decompress, for a while, probably. Ron was with his family. She was alone, for the time being, and suddenly felt quite desperate. Quite empty.

She found herself walking towards the library.

For years, this had been her second home. The safety of the shelves and the constant quiet became a sort of religious experience for the young witch. And now, she returned. She found there hadn't been much damage. To the front, of course, there were a few toppled shelves and remnants of the fighting, but towards the back of the library, it looked untouched. With a small smile, she walked up and down the shelves, fingers absentmindedly dancing across the spines.

She heard footsteps at the front of the library, and then a voice.

"Hermione?" it called gently. Ron.

She walked out through the shelves, saw him standing there in the doorway. She felt a pang deep in her stomach as she saw his red eyes. He was hurting. She couldn't much blame him.

She walked to him, quickly, silently. There was a lot of unsaid things between them, but today wasn't the time, and just then, there wasn't a need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest, feeling it catch with a hollow sob. The familiar goal-oriented shift hit her suddenly, distracting her from any of her own feelings. Comfort. Support. Provide love.

"What do you need?" She asked, pulling away, brushing away a couple tears from his cheek. He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. He shook his head once.

"Mom and Dad went home. Took him….Bill too. I didn't want to go."

"That's alright. Are you hungry?"

Again, his head shook.

"I'm tired, mostly." he said, his voice hollow.

She smoothed his hair back gently, looking up at his face. This past year, Ron had looked like a different person, in ways. Like she was noticing parts of him she never had. Of course, he was the same old boy she'd met on the train, but now his eyes made her stomach flop. His arms, toned and large, his chest broad and wide and oddly inviting. His jaw, covered in a slight stubble, more brown than red, was angular and defined. She felt an unexpected pang below her navel, and flushed, realizing she was oggling.

"Then...er, let's go to sleep." She slid her fingers between his, a movement that was becoming more natural. "Common room?"

"You'll stay?" he asked weakly, and she smiled slightly.

"Yeah, of course."

He looked immensely relieved. He guided her from the library, and they walked in silence, taking in the destruction around them. The Fat Lady, instead of asking for a password, looked solemn and understanding, and swung open.

The common room was deserted. Hermione looked towards the fireplace. The fire, in their Hogwarts days, was never extinguished. Even in the warmer months, it remained embers, warm and glowing. But now, now it was cold black ash.

Something inside her split. The determined calm she wanted so desperately to cling to, was shattered in a quick and painful moment. She let out a desperate scream against her will, as the emotions rolled over her like a thick and suffocating smoke. Tears sprung in her eyes, and a sob shook her body. She felt herself fall to her knees.

Ron spun, looking alarmed. It was only a half a moment of confusion before he realized what he needed to do. She was breathing funny, in between sobs, bordering on hysterics. He reached for her, easily scooping her up. She was limp, mostly, and his stomach twisted painfully. He fell into the nearest chair and pulled her into his lap, holding her against him.

She screamed into his chest, the waves of grief nearly too hard for her to stand. For a long while, he let her cry, gently stroking her back and smoothing her curls. When the crying turned into hyperventilating, he pulled her away from his chest, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Hermione." he said firmly. Her face glistened with tears, her eyes glassy and unseeing. Her mouth was open, gasping for air, and her entire body shook. "Look at me."

Her eyes met his, and she nodded slightly.

"Now breathe. Steady." he inhaled, slowly, and exhaled, setting an example. The second time he inhaled, she did the same. Shakily, she did it again. Her eyes looked more focused now, and behind them was a firm determination to get a grip.

For a while longer, she settled, a sob still escaping occasionally. Now that she wasn't going to faint, Ron let her have at it. He spoke more, as well. Offering small, quiet words of comfort.

"We're okay, it's over, it's over. You're okay, I'm here, we're all okay." he repeated, his voice thick again with emotion. His own tears had spilled down onto his face and her hair. He was nowhere near the state she'd been in, but seeing her like that had hit him harder than most things that day. He thought grimly of Malfoy Manor, and her screams, and held her tighter. He couldn't bear to think of what he'd do if he'd lost her that night.

Or ever. If he lost her ever. With a sudden epiphany, he realized what that meant.

Her crying had stopped, and now she just listened to the steady heartbeat beneath his jumper.

"Hermione?" he asked softly, and she looked up at him. He took in her face, her beauty. Her thick eyelashes and glowing brown eyes, the spattering of freckles only across her nose, her bowed and inviting...tantalizingly full and pink lips. He'd tasted them, like he'd always dreamed of, hours before. He'd felt them moving against his, her tongue slipping between his. The memory of this stirred him slightly.

He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip.

"I love you." he whispered. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Ron, I...I love you too." she replied quickly.

"Wait…" he sighed. "Not like, not like…" he sputtered. "Not like I love Harry...or my sister. Like, I love you. Like, in love with…..with you."

"No, I know." she said softly. She looked somewhat relieved, he noticed. "I am, too."

He bent down, kissing her carefully, tasting the salty tears on her lips. He heard her sigh, deep in her chest, and open her mouth invitingly. He gripped her hair, kissing her desperately, ravenously, like he was making up for lost time. She pushed herself up, readjusting so her knees fell on either side of him, his hand slid across the small of her back. All the emotions transferred themselves into desperate hunger for him. She pressed her hips against his, rolling them a couple times, grinding softly, as she kissed him. With a small moan of satisfaction, she felt his response.

A moment later, he jumped, and she pulled back. He shook his head, breathing heavily.

"We can't." she said. He nodded. It wasn't time, it wasn't right.

"I know." he said, his voice gruffer. "I'm sorry….that was..." he trailed off, and pressed his hand against her back again.

"You're tired." she said. "I am too."

"You okay, though?" he asked. "You were in a right state."

She nodded. "Feel much better. Needed to get it out of my system. Thank you."

She slid off him, and held out her hand. He followed her up to the boys dormitory. He looked at their room, beds still made with whatever bedding the current occupants had. He lost himself in his thoughts for a moment, thinking of all the time spent in there. Joking with Harry, throwing candies across the room at Seamus and Dean. The fights. The early mornings.

He looked at Hermione. She'd undressed, and was down to her panties and a white tank top.

"Don't get excited." she grinned wryly. "My clothes were filthy. Yours are too. You'll be more comfortable in your pants."

He nodded stupidly, not able to pry his eyes off her. He'd never seen this much skin on Hermione ever. Her legs were long, her belly flat. Her ass curved out more than he expected it too. Her breasts pert and standing at attention in the chill. Her hair fell down her midback, and across her collarbone, wild.

She'd been up for nearly two days straight. Her eyes were puffy and red. There were injuries all over her. Bruises, mostly, some cuts.

She walked across the room, and helped him out of his jumper. The animalistic side in him wanted nothing more than to pull down those panties and have at her, kiss her again, feel every inch of her skin. Taste every inch.

"You're staring." she said. "You're tired, remember?"

This sentence brought him back into reality. She slid her hand down his bare chest, letting it rest on his belly. She was surprised to feel some definition there. The year of traveling had toned him out. She ached to follow that dark red fuzz above his waistband and lower. To be touched in every untouched place.

"Sleep." he said. He walked to the bed, pulling back the sheets. They were singles, but roomy enough for two people. She climbed in after him, curling against him like a cat.

They slept 16 hours.


	2. Chapter 2 - First Time

**A/N: Hi everyone. Thanks for stopping in. I have no idea if this will be a regular project, I just know I have a lot of content I'd like to get down, so this is where I'm unloading it. There _will_ be more projects, I just don't know how timeline based they'll be. They could be pretty random, not chapter formed. Either way, if you're enjoying it, subscribe to the story or my author-ship. Thank you for stopping in.**

 **(and yes, this chapter has some graphicness! Enjoy ;)**

"Oi." Greeves said to Ron, walking past his desk. He dropped a letter in front of him.

Ron had been dozing slightly, exhausted from the past week of work. They'd been staking out a hotbed of dark magic activity in Ireland, in the east of Dublin. It had been boring restless work, interrupted by bursts of excitements usually involving quick duels or arrests. Right now, the office was focused on the finding and capturing of the mass of death eaters still at large, or in hiding. Bring them to justice for the deaths of so many.

He recognized the script at once, and swallowed, his heart tightening. Hermione. They hadn't had much free time, and hadn't seen as much of each other as he liked. He was working as an auror; Hermione was finishing her education in depth at Hogwarts, and working as an assistant professor.

He ran his thumb across the script on the front of the thick creamy envelope. He smiled, slightly.

"Is that from Hermione?" a voice perked from behind him. He crammed the envelope in a drawer, and whirled around, glaring at Harry. "Didn't you see her just last weekend?"

"Only for a bit." Ron said, defensively. "And anyways, she likes writing letters."

He stood, pulling out the letter and pocketing it. "I'm going to the loo."

"Ronnie wants some privacy while he reads his love letter." Harry said, and Ron made to whack at his head. Harry ducked, laughing. Ron's ears burned scarlet.

"You're a prat." he said, before storming off.

Down the hall, he slid into the empty bathroom, locking it behind him. He leaned against the wall, tearing it open. Hermione had been living in Hogwarts, while Harry and Ron shared a flat in London. She saw them when she could, but was usually just as busy as them. And more often than not, the visits involved Harry. Neither Ron nor Hermione had the heart to tell him he wasn't invited, so alone time was quick desperate moments when there was an opportunity.

 _Ron -_

 _Take some time off this weekend, I know you're exhausted. Tell Harry you're going to visit with George, or something, so he doesn't wonder. Tell the ministry it's bad health. Come stay with me. I took some time off, and I'm housesitting for my cousin Shelley, she lives on the coast. I'm having trouble enjoying it much on my own. Empty places don't mix well with me anymore, and it's been hard to sleep alone. There's a lot we have to talk about, and a lot we have yet to do. I miss you._

 _H_

He stared at the carefully arched script. _I miss you._

Without grabbing his coat, he left that moment.

With a quick apparition back to the apartment to fill a bag of clothes and change out of his work robes and into something more muggle-friendly. He pulled on a white shirt and flannel jumper, and some jeans. He stuffed a rucksack with extra clothes, and then, as an afterthought, grabbed the small box he'd had hidden in his bedside table for weeks.

He took a last look around the apartment, checking for anything he may have forgotten, and then with a wave of his wand, apparated to the address Hermione had scribbled at the end of the letter.

The cottage was at the end of a tree lined road, tucked deeply in a full garden, overrun with all sorts of pansies and roses and shrubs. It was at the end of an edge, and he could see the ocean behind the house.

Nervously, he ran a hand through his hair, and made for the front door. A curtain moved at the side window.

"I didn't think you'd be here so soon!" Hermione said breathlessly as she opened the door. "I was expecting a couple more days of peace before-"

He stepped forward, taking her face and kissing it. She stiffened in surprise, and then relaxed against him, relishing the comfort of their aloneness.

"Tell me everything." he said, softly, pulling away.

"You too." she said, reaching for his hand and pulling him inside. "I'll put on a cup of tea."

The house was neatly furnished, mostly in whites and neutrals. Bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling.

"Are you sure this isn't your house?" he asked, indicating the books. She smiled, shaking her head.

"No. Did love it as a girl, though."

She sat him at the kitchen counter, and worked around the kitchen, putting on the tea. He watched her as she moved, in a pair of leggings and long dark purple sweater that made her skin glow. Her face was untouched by makeup, which he'd been used to seeing her in. Her curls had been growing out since last year, and now trailed to her ribs. Her hair was half pulled up, secured with a couple sticks.

She settled beside him, gripping the mug with excitement. For a moment it was quiet.

"What have you been working on at Hogwarts?" he finally asked. Her eyes lit up, and she launched into an explanation of the reexamining of the school records, which were apparently kept in an ancient system that wasn't efficient nor helpful in any way. It wasn't divided by student, but instead by class, so if you wanted a full profile on a single student, you'd have to go three or for different places to get the information. And she'd been working with Flitwick on the repair of the castle's original texts by the four founders. She'd been translating and refiguring hundreds of letters and notices and books all written by the original four founders. As she spoke, she looked excited, her eyes sparkling. He grinned sheepishly as she finished her story, nearly fifteen minutes later, seemingly not pausing once. His tea leaves sat in cold dregs beside him.

A thought occurred to him suddenly.

"Why'd you take time off, then?" he asked, and her face fell slightly.

"I've been having some...trouble. Sleeping." she wrinkled her nose. Her cheeks flushed. She looked down, curls falling in her face. He saw her rub the scar along her arm, through the fabric of her sweatshirt.

"Nightmares, again, 'Mione?"

She shrugged. "I'm alright. Just some expected psychological trauma hitting me now, I suppose. I can't explain it. Not even sleeping drafts have been helping. But, I have been reading a lot."

"How long has it been an issue?" he asked, taking a hand of hers. She shook her head again.

"It's alright. I'll be alright." she said, not meeting his eyeline.

"Oi." he said firmly, squeezing her hand. "You should have told me."

She sighed, nodding.

"It helps when I have someone with me, even in the room."

"How often has that happened?" he asked, letting go of her hand, looking at her suspiciously. She laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Zero times. Not even with you, mind. Since we, er, have yet to...y'know."

He sighed.

"Let's go for a walk." he said.

They took a small wooded path down the steep hill towards the rocky beach. Hermione had put a coat over her sweater, and pulled on a white fluffy beanie. They settled on a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and Hermione leaned against his chest as she asked him questions about being an auror. They talked for a long while, jumping easily from one subject to the next, until the sun began to dip low over the horizon.

When the windchill became slightly icy, they returned up the path. Hermione led him to a side door, with windows that overlooked the waves on the left of the house.

They stepped inside, and closing the door behind them, the wind fell silent. Hermione looked up at him, her nose red from the cold.

He pulled out the lighter he now kept with him everywhere, and released a couple low hanging glowing orbs. The light was warm and gentle. This room too was also covered wall to wall in books, only instead of sitting room furniture, there was a wardrobe, and a large bed covered in a thick patchwork quilt.

"I'm nervous." Hermione whispered suddenly. Ron looked down at her in surprise.

"Nervous about?"

She eyed the bed, motioning to it slightly. "All that. This." she motioned between them. "I know with...with Lavender you probably had a lot of experie-"

"Oi!" he said in disgust, pulling a face. "Noooooo. No! I mean, I learned some stuff, sure, I guess, but we didn't….we hadn't…."

She sat on the bed. She looked relieved.

"You don't feel like you have to, do you?" he asked, sitting beside her.

She shook her head.

"No. No. I want to."

Ron felt hot suddenly. He shut his eyes, trying to push away the sudden bombardment of every sexual fantasy he'd dreamt of her. Since that night in the tower, laying together in barely anything, every night he'd fallen asleep to thoughts of her rushing through his head. He wanted to explore every last inch of her, he wanted to draw out every moan and satisfied gasp. He wanted to taste that tantalizing and mysterious zone between her legs.

His gaze had fallen to her breasts, where he realized he'd zoned in for the past few moments. He startled, looking away. Hermione bit her lip. She slid off her coat.

"It's alright." she said gently. "I want you to look. I want you to a lot more than look, actually."

This sentence lit his soul aflame. He was burning with desire suddenly.

"Do you?" she whispered, leaning very close. Their lips were inches apart.

She reached for the hem of her shirt, and lifted it. Her breasts fell, exposed, large and full. Ron groaned, moving towards her, kissing her deeply, pushing her onto her back. Her legs parted, and he moved closer to her, taking in the smell and feel of everything. She smelled like strawberry soap. Her skin was soft and goose pimpled in the chill of the air. Her eyes blinked up at him, wide and glistening, her pupils dilated. Her hair fanned out beneath her head.

"You're beautiful." he said. "So beautiful." He kissed her neck, down her chest, squeezing her nipples as she gasped. He stopped, looking up at her. "You alright?"

She bit her lip, nodding. "Felt good, is all." He moved up, over her face, taking it with one hand.

"You tell me if anything I do is too much, alright? I'll stop. I don't care if we're in the middle of it, right? I'll stop, okay?"

She nodded, reaching for the hem of his shirt now. She eagerly felt his skin, warm and inviting, the muscles taut and firm beneath his freckles. She ran a finger over a long scar near his hip.

"What's that from?" she asked.

"Er, some curse from Macnair when we raided a while back, I think."

She nodded. Her hand shook as she pulled it away.

"I want you." she admitted. "It's been all I can think of, lately."

He grinned, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. Her hair surrounded his face like a curtain.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking worried. She bent down, kissing him deeply. She rolled her hips against his, drawing out some satisfied groans from deep inside his belly. With her fingers, she deftly undid the button and zipper of his pants. She pressed her hand against the hardness there, and then pulled back in surprise.

"What?" Ron asked, again looking worried.

"It's...it's quite big, isn't it?"

"Is it?" he asked, sitting up slightly. "I haven't had an opportunity to compare it to anyone else's."

She tapped it again, her eyebrows raising, and nodded. "Pleasant surprise is all."

"Were you expecting something less satisfying?" he asked, a lilt of humor in his voice. She arched a brow.

"I don't know what I was expecting." she said thoughtfully. "Is it going to...hurt?"

"It will if you overthink everything like this, love." he said, stroking her bare back carefully. "It all depends on your level of comfort, excitement...stuff like that, yknow. Didn't do any research regarding this part?" he grinned sheepishly. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"I'm not surprised _you_ have." she said, but then smirked.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asked. Again, she nodded.

He reached for her leggings, tugging them down slightly. She climbed off of him, wriggling out of them, revealing a pair of dark blue panties. He pulled off his pants quickly. Curiously, Hermione reached for his member, and then jumped as Ron made a noise. Her head snapped towards his, her hand resting around the base. His eyes were shut, and his chest fell up and down. With a twinge of satisfaction, she stroked it, and again he made a muffled groan.

Pleased with herself, she bent lower, kissing the sensitive area around it, and then licking it slowly from base to tip.

 _"Oh my god._ " Ron whispered. She grinned up at him, her fingers still brushing him lightly.

In a quick movement, Ron flipped her, pulling her under him. Slipping under her panties, he dipped a finger inside her. She mewled like a kitten. He watched her reaction as he moved around inside her, feeling her delicious smooth and inviting warmth.

"We got to go steadily, here, alright?" he said into her neck.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I have to sort of...prep you a bit." he said. "Er, since you haven't really, um….you're going to be a bit tight, and since I don't want to hurt you, I'm just going to….get you really nice and ready, right?"

He pushed another finger inside her, and she whimpered. He was shaking with desire, but he had to take his time, she didn't deserve to be rushed.

"Feel that resistance?" he said, indicating the tightness inside her. She nodded. "That'll go away in a second, here."

She sighed, arching her back, pressing against his hand. It felt so marvelous, like nothing she'd ever done before. With other boys, the limited experience she _did_ have, they sort of pawed at her awkwardly. This was different.

He tugged her panties down, and tossed them across the room. He held himself over her, as he worked, on one arm, watching her respond to the stimuli, his desire mounting with every moment.

"Spread your legs just a bit, 'Mione." he said, and she adjusted. With her arousal, her lips had become less tight and had more give. Lubricant soaked his fingers. He finally slid a third finger in, and she made a noise through clenched teeth.

"You okay?" he asked, slowing after a couple minutes.

"I'm good, yeah."

"Are you ready?" he asked, and her eyes opened. "I'll be careful, I promise."

She smiled, and he smiled back.

Moving more on the bed, laying against the pillows, he climbed on top of her. He kissed her first, slowly and carefully.

"I love you." he whispered. She smiled again.

"I love you too."

Pushing her legs apart lightly, with shaking hands, he pressed into her. At the same moment, they both made loud noises of satisfaction. On his knees, he held her by the small of her back, arching her hips towards him.

"Doesn't hurt?" he gasped.

"God no." she said. He pulled his hips back and went in again, and again they both made noises of pleasure. He started slow, but after a minute, couldn't contain his own needs. His pace quickened, and Hermione let out a weak scream, her heart racing.

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her, pressing her lower in the bed, kissing her eagerly. She pressed her forehead against his, meeting his eyes.

"I'm gonna… _Hermione_ …" he sounded slightly panicked, and then with a loud male bark, pushed into her a final time. She felt something warm spreading within her, mentally noting the need of a contraceptive charm in a few moments.

He fell beside her, gasping for air for a moment, and then reaching for her, smiling widely. She smiled back. They were both pink in the face, hair mussed, and sticky.

"Thank you." she whispered, brushing away a drop of sweat from his forehead.

"Naw...naw, 'Mione, thank you. You're amazing." he said, and then swore loudly. She jumped.

"What?" she demanded, and he laughed.

"It was just really really….everything I hoped for." he said, laughing slightly. She sighed, relieved.

"Me too."


	3. Chapter 3 - Crisis

Diagon Alley was alight with noise and laughter. The pubs swam with witches and wizards, and cheers burst from them every now and then. It was New Years Eve, the moon was bright in the sky over the cobblestones. There was a small DA reunion in Gleamstones Brewery, and the night was alight with excitement.

Ron sat with Hermione at the end of a long wooden table, surrounded by a good dozen of their old school friends. It had been 5 years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and everyone looked well.

Luna sat to their right, her hair cut pixie short now, her ears filled with studs. She wore flowing multicolored pants, curl toed shoes, and a white peasant blouse with enchanted butterflies around the collar, that actually slowly moved their wings about. George Weasley sat beside her, Lee beside him, Neville, Neville's girlfriend Hannah Abbott, Seamus, and Dean across the table. Harry sat at the very end, a very giggly Ginny on his lap. They'd been trading stories, drinking like fish, and joking around for the past couple hours.

"Weasley, foul play by the Cannons last week." Lee jeered at Ron.

"Coming from a Wasps fan that is rich!" he replied, and then laughed. "It's a bad season, yeah, but I mean, what can you do?"

Hermione was immersed in a conversation with Luna about thestral conservation in Sweden. Ginny had challenged Harry and George to a drinking game involving a deck of cards at the end of the table.

"How's teaching going, Neville?" Hermione asked him, and he grinned.

"It's great, yeah." he nodded. "Lot's of fun, got a good group of classes this year."

She leaned forward, listening, asking questions. Ron watched her for a moment, taking her distraction as an opportunity to admire her. Her curls were pulled back in a braid, and she was quick to laugh tonight. She was in good spirits, and had a hyperactive energy that was downright sexy. He took a gulp of his third Dragons Scale and belched. Hermione shot him a look, and he laughed.

There was a burst of cheering from the opposite end of the table. Ginny fanned herself, trying to cool down from the onslaught of firewhisky.

Hermione stood, going to get another drink from the bar. Ron watched her before she disappeared into the crowd of people, and then he turned back to Lee to continually defend the Cannons.

She pushed through the mass of people to get to the bar front, and leaned against the worn wood bartop, waiting for her turn, tapping a sickle on the counter.

From behind her, hands grabbed her hips. Grinning, assuming it was Ron, she turned. It was a man she didn't recognize.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, expecting him to shuffle away, embarrassed at grabbing the wrong hips. After she caught his gaze, and saw the persistent look in his eyes, she felt her stomach twist uncomfortably.

The man, much taller than she, had short cropped hair and dark stubble. He wasn't terrible looking, but had a nastiness about him that made her hair stand on end.

"Get your hands off of me!" she said in a high pitched voice, reaching for her wand. He grabbed both her hands and held them, low, against her belly. She glanced over towards the table of her friends, but the crowd of people obstructed her from view. With a quick move, her freed one of his own hands, grabbing both of her wrists with just one massive hand. He pulled his own wand from his breast pocket, and pressed it against her throat.

" _Imperio_." he whispered, and Hermione went slack as the cool relaxed feeling spread over her body. "You're coming with me, you pretty young thing." he said, and she nodded. Of course she was, that made sense.

He took her hand normally, and began to lead her from the bar.

Bumping into the crowd, she hardly noticed when George Weasley bounced against her. He grinned for half a second, and then looked at her hand, and at the man, clearly confused.

"Oi, Hermione, what…?" he began, and then saw her glazed over empty eyes. He reached for his wand, but the man tugged her away behind a pillar and out the door of the pub. George swore, shoving his way back to the table. "Somebody just pulled Hermione outside!" he said urgently. "I think she's imperviused."

Ron was on his feet before George had finished his sentence. He was closely followed by the others, but the crowds made it hard for them to all get out the door efficiently. He rushed the street, alone, his wand at the ready.

He saw a glimpse of Hermione's brown hair being led down an alleyway, blocks away. He broke into a run, pounding the cobblestones with a sudden desperate feverence.

He ran around the corner just as there was a loud crack of apparition. He slowed, staring down the empty alleyway in disbelief.

Footsteps followed behind him, Harry, George, Neville, Dean, Luna, all running with their wands drawn.

"She's gone." he said, in shock. He turned around, staring at his friend's faces, also looking confused. He put his hands on his head, falling against a wall. "Who in the hell was that?"

"I'll go ask around the bar if anyone knew him." Neville said, running back. Harry walked to Ron, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, mate." he said. "We'll find her, fast too. We work with the best in the business."

"I don't understand." he muttered weakly. "Who would….why would…?"

"Loads of people know who we are, Ron. Maybe someone zeroed in on her when that article got released a couple weeks back. Had a picture of us all, y'know."

Ron nodded bleakly.

" _And_ we work in the best in the business. We've hunted every last death eater down since the ending of the war. You think some scummy guy is going to get away with this? He'll do 10 in Azkaban just for using the imperius curse, not to mention…." he trailed off, and realized the indication of the rest of his sentence was too much for Ron to bear.

* * *

Miles away, the man apparated into an empty street lined with houses. He pulled Hermione along, who stumbled behind him with a childlike gait.

"These lights look nice." she commented duly, looking up at the streetlights, which fluttered slightly in her vision.

"I'm going to show you my house, and you're going to come with me to the bedroom, and we're going to have ourselves a nice evening." he said gruffly. She nodded like a puppy. "Gosh, you're pretty in the moonlight." he said. She stared blankly, and he shook her arm. "Be polite, say thank you."

"Thank you." she sang.

He led her up the steps to a townhouse, and unlocked the door.

"Go into the bedroom, and undress. Sit on the bed." he said, before turning to the kitchen. "And give me your wand as well."

She handed over her wand, and hurried to the back of the house.

In the dark bedroom, she unbuttoned her jeans, and then tugged off her sweater. She sat on the edge of the bed, and then moved her arm. Her eye caught the scar on her forearm, and there was a twinge of understanding. Now there was a small piece of consciousness.

The curse was heavy, layering her underneath a blanket of complacency. But her sharp mind was fighting back, if only a little.

* * *

Ron and Harry apparated to the ministry, hurrying to the auror offices. They'd sent an owl to Kingsley, the head of the office now, to begin work to find Hermione. Nobody at the bar had recognized the man, and now the rest of the DA was asking every shop nearby.

Kingsley arrived a few minutes after Ron and Hermione. He said he'd made contact with a friend in Bulgaria, one of the few Wizards who had the ability to trace apparition and disapparation. It was a very specific level of a combination of The Sight and Occlumency.

"Reglar is the best in the business. As soon as he gets here, it won't be long."

"Long enough." Ron said, angrily.

"We can...adjust her memory. If need be." Kingsley said solemnly.

Ron made a noise of disgust. "Lie to her?"

"If she's under Imperio, she won't remember anyways." Harry said, which didn't seem to help Ron much.

"I think I'm going to be sick." he said, and hurried down the hall. He locked the bathroom behind him, leaning over the sink. His stomach twisted in a combination of nerves, fury, helplessness, and revulsion. He balled up his fists, trying to take a breath. He laughed lightly as he realized what Hermione would say if he was here. That being emotional when there's an issue at hand was unproductive and illogical.

He should have kept watching her, when she got up to get a drink. He should have been there.

He smashed his fist into the mirror.

* * *

Hermione hadn't yet overcome the strength of the curse. She'd laid there, quietly, while this strange man had his way with her. She could hardly worry about that. She needed to slip out of this trance. She knew she could, if she could only focus.

It was just a waiting game now. Bulgaria took a portkey, and setting one up, even with the rushed approval from the ministry, still took a while.

Finally, 2 hours later, there was a noise from outside the offices. Harry, Ron, and Kingsley all got to their feet.

"We'll go to the place they disapparated." the man called Reglar said without a greeting. "Quick now, we don't have much time. Meet me there." he said, and then popped away.

Ron glanced at Harry, and they both did the same.

Hermione struggled under the curse, but could feel it's grips loosening. She was sure that Ron was on the trail, doing everything he could to find her, but there was only so much he could do. She'd have to do some of it herself. The man, who had yet to identify herself, had been in and out of the bedroom. She knew he'd plan to obliviate her afterwards, and the sense of injustice for herself was immeasurable. It bothered her more than the violation she was receiving.

After the 3rd or 4th time, the man retired to the bathroom, and she heard the shower go on. She was still nearly half underneath the curse, but she figured she had a few minutes to search for her wand. She rolled out of bed, crawling down the hallway with a forced determination. After 5 minutes of looking, she knew her window was getting short. Her wand was nowhere to be found.

She glanced around desperately, for another idea. Suddenly, in the far corner of a dark sitting room, she saw an owl cage. She found a loose piece of mail, with the man's address scribbled on it. She opened the cage with a deep internal struggle. Gritting her teeth, she gave the owl the letter, opening the window.

"The Ministry of Magic. Auror Office, if you can." she whispered.

With the last of her remaining strength, she returned to the bedroom.

* * *

In the alleyway, Reglar was meditating, pressing his palm against the ground.

Harry stood beside Ron, his hand on his shoulder.

"We'll figure it out, mate." he said gently. "We'll get her back."

Reglar stood after about ten minutes, and looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry." he said. "Too many people been through here. Too many traces. I can't...I can't see it."

Before Harry could stop him, Ron had him pinned against the brick wall. He was shouting, in frustration and fury, not even sure what words were flying from his mouth. Harry pulled him back with all his strength.

Suddenly, they were back in the ministry. Ron wheeled around, confused, staring at Harry. He wound back, and landed a punch across Harry's jaw.

"Bloody hell, Ron." Harry grunted, stepping back and glowering at him. "I'll let that one slide, due to the current situation. But you were threatening to kill him."

"Was I?" Ron asked, gasping. Harry nodded.

There was a low hoot from behind them, and they both jumped. An owl sat on a desk, holding a letter. Harry reached for it, opening it and reading it.

"What is this?" he asked, confused. "It's a letter about...cauldrons, or something."

"Addressed to us?" Ron asked, standing.

With a low pop, Kingsley appeared behind them.

"Weasley…" he said lowly.

"Sorry." he said, looking ashamed.

"We can discuss it after." Kingsley said.

"It's addressed to some place outside Brighton." he said.

"Hermione." Ron said softly, grabbing the letter from his hand. "That brilliant brilliant witch. That's where she is. I'd bet my life on it."

"How'd she…"

"Don't worry about it. We have to go." he said. He looked at Harry and Kingsley.

"Worth a shot." Kingsley said.

They apparated to the same street, hurrying towards the numbered house. It only took half a minute. They found the man in the bedroom, Hermione curled on the pillows. Harry stunned him before he had a chance to do anything.

Kingsley had to lift the Imperious curse. Hermione's eyes widened, as she came to. Ron gathered Hermione beside him, taking his coat off to preserve her modesty.

She shook slightly, but mostly looked relieved.

"I'm alright." she said calmly.

"We'll go away, okay? You and me, just us, for a while. However long you need. France, if you want." he said, pushing her hair away from her face. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I'm so sorry."

"Azkaban?" she asked, looking at the unconscious man nervously.

"If not I'll kill him myself." he said seriously. She nodded. "The letter? Did you?"

"I fought it. As best I could." she said weakly.

"Merlin, Hermione. Only a few people in the world can do that."

"Not all the way." she said quickly. "But enough."

"Yeah." he said, smiling. "You did, you're brilliant. So brilliant."

"Can we go home?" she asked. He nodded.

* * *

Hermione was weak, and Ron helped her walk up the path to their little townhouse. She was surprised at how calm she felt. She was a little dazed, a little shaky, but the curse had softened the trauma of everything. And for that, she was grateful. Even more grateful for the man who led her up the steps, who ushered her into a change of clothes and into bed, who brought her a cup of tea, who curled beside her under the sheets and took her into his arms.

She gladly took the sleeping draft he offered her after a couple hours, and Ron waited for her to fall asleep. He gazed at her with a steady throb of love. He couldn't ever remember feeling so scared, so close to losing her. It had only been a few hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. The waiting.

It was over now. She slept soundly beside him, breathing steadily. He stood, going into the kitchen. He reached for a box of Cauldron Cakes, which Hermione hated. He slid out the white box, flipping it open.

He should have asked a long time ago.


	4. Chapter 4 - Gifts

" _You_ are the most infuriating dull-headed self-righteous PRAT I have ever come in contact with." Hermione was screaming, pacing back and forth. Ron sat on the couch, steaming.

"It was _for work!_ " he shouted back. "I've told you!"

"There wasn't another auror….that could possibly...go undercover….in the _brothel._ "

"Not that they don't know! They keep tabs on all the aurors when they can."

"What about the MLA? Isn't that what they do?" she screamed, bordering on hysterics.

"Usually." he said slowly, trying to keep his voice level. "Like I just _said_ they've been servicing dark wizards. We were tracing-"

"I hate your job, Ronald." she said suddenly. He stood.

" _What?_ " he hissed.

"I hate it. You're in danger all the time. You're hardly home. If you ever want a _family_."

"Family?" he asked. "Hermione. What? Where is this coming from?"

"You can't...you can't keep putting yourself in these dangerous situations. And now, now you end up in a brothel in Knockturn Alley. With a half-Veela wrapped around your big huge-"

"This is why I didn't tell you!" he shouted. "Because you're irrational!"

"Me? Me? I'm irrational?" she cried. Suddenly tears sprung into her eyes.

"I'm sorry." he said, thrown by her tears. She hardly cried.

"It doesn't matter." she said, wiping her tears furiously. "I'm just...I'm just worried. All the time, Ron. The war is over. But you insist in throwing yourself back into it. Back into to the constant violence."

"I'm stopping other people from dying, Hermione. Or being hurt. Like Fred. Tonks. Lupin. Everyone else we lost, Hermione, I'm trying to stop that from happening to other people."

She looked up in surprise.

"You never told me that." she said.

"Because...because wanting to do it for the excitement...the glory, the recognition. That made more sense, didn't it?"

"I just assumed….after being friends with Harry for so long. Maybe you wanted-"

"I didn't want anyone else to die in the name of dark magic, okay?" he snapped. "Bit lame, isn't it?"

"No." she said. "I wish you _had_ told me."

"Well! Now you know."

"Still wish you hadn't volunteered to go play touchy-feely with the women of Madame Zusko's-"

"I said I was sorry. It didn't mean anything. It was work."

She nodded, sniffing. "Fine."

"Okay. Can you sit, please, for a minute?" he asked, and she settled beside him back on the couch. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I thought my opinion didn't matter. I didn't want to stop you from doing...something that you loved. Or that gave you gratification."

"That doesn't really matter, 'Mione. I didn't want to go back to school, Hermione, not after everything that happened. And the ministry offered me a job. One that... _pays_ well. So I could, I don't know, be comfortable. Not have the constant concern my parents always had. And yeah, it's a bit of fun, but I'm also good at it. And I don't know if I have the brains to do anything else."

She smiled slightly. "Of course you do." she said.

"Don't start lecturing me on 'applying myself' or some rubbish." he said in a low voice. She kissed his cheek.

"We'll figure it out, Ron." she said. "I'm sorry I was upset."

"Yeah...are you alright? You don't usually…."

"Get upset?"

"Upset that involves tears, I mean. Did something happen at work?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Just a little generally stressed, y'know?" she said. "Worried about you all the time."

"That too. You know I can hold my own. And the family?" he asked. "Where was _that_ coming from?"

"I've just been thinking...lately. About...us." she squirmed, awkwardly. "It's been 5 years, Ron. You and me."

He put his head in his hands.

"You always have to spoil everything." he sighed. She looked hurt, but when he looked up, he was smiling.

"What?" she replied, now her turn to be confused.

He stood, walking to the kitchen. She turned, watching him go. He opened a cupboard, taking down the box of Cauldron Cakes. She stood quickly, following him.

"Eating? We're trying to have a conversation!" she said, shrilly.

He dropped a handful of cauldron cakes, and swore. She bent down, helping him scoop them up. She looked up, as his hands held out something in a small box.

She screamed.

"You remember how we were supposed to go to Paris this weekend?" he asked. She nodded, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Tears again spilling on her cheeks. He shook the box. "You broached the subject. Spoiled the surprise."

"You absolute arse!" she cried, laughing through her tears. "Cauldron Cakes?"

"You hate them!" he said, and she nodded.

She looked at the ring, small but elegant, diamonds around the entire band with a small stone in the center, made with what looked like dragonglass.

Ron took it out of the box, taking her hand.

"Hermione Granger. You are the most beautiful and intelligent and positively infuriating woman I have ever met-"

She gave a watery laugh.

"And I've never met someone like you. Someone that challenges me like you do. That makes me laugh, and smile, and brings out the best in me. And I'm in love with you. I want you to be my everything. Forever."

Shaking, he slid the ring on her finger. She looked down at it, her eyes wide, her face broken by a smile.

"Marry me?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yes. Yes, absolutely." She said, and threw her arms around his neck. He stood, pulling her up with him, and set her on the kitchen counter. He kissed her, burying his hands in her hair. He reached for the button on her jeans, but she grabbed his hand.

"Wait." she said. "There's something else."

"What?" he asked, suddenly concerned. His brows furrowed together. Hermione took his hand, placing it low on her belly. She bit her lip, waiting.

He gave her a look, his head cocking to one side. Then his brows shot up, disappearing into his fringe.

"You're joking." he said, barely audible.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"Mad?" he asked, stupefied. "A baby, Hermione?"

She nodded.

"How could I be mad? I've always wanted a big family." he said, and she smiled wider.

"I guess one of us forgot the contraceptive charm a few weeks back." she said. "And yes, it is a bit sooner than I expected. And if you're not ready, Ron, it's a simple potion-"

"It's your call." he said gently. "If you're not ready, I'm alright with whatever."

She looked down thoughtfully.

"If you aren't...Hermione, you'd still make me the happiest man in the world. Everyday." he picked up her hand, rubbing the ring with his thumb.

"It's safe?" she whispered. "I know...during the war, so many people didn't want to bring babies into the world. But...but you know...you know what's going on these days. You're on the front lines, Ron."

He pushed her hair from her face.

"Not for long, if you were being serious about that." he said. "I'll get a desk job, or an international diplomacy with the auror office. Something that keeps me off the front lines. Or what's left of them. It's safe. The numbers of dark wizards are dwindling. And sure there could be spikes, but you're a brilliant witch, and I'm a half decent wizard-"

"You are a wonderful and talented-"

"Not trying to fish, darling." he said. "Either way, whatever child or children we have will have not only us, but an absolute mass of aunts and uncles and cousins who would go the ends of the earth to protect them."

She grinned ruefully, and kissed him on the nose.

"Then yes. I'm ready. We bought this house because of the extra room."

"I thought that was just for all my quidditch memorabilia." he said with a small frown, and Hermione giggled.

He scooped her off the counter, and carried her into the bedroom, her legs wrapped around his middle/


End file.
